


Summer Lovin'

by Saratonin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, M/M, Summer, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 14:13:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19395808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saratonin/pseuds/Saratonin
Summary: Greg is awfully surprised to find Mycroft here.





	Summer Lovin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [event_horizon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/event_horizon/gifts).



> Thank you Event Horizon for supporting the Rupert Graves Birthday Auction. I hope it lives up to your expectations. 
> 
> To the Brits who know better - I'm sorry if I picked the wrong town, I just looked at Google maps and picked what I *hoped* would be good.

Greg hates summer. It’s hot and humid. Wearing a suit at a crime scene in this weather is unbearable. The rain doesn’t help. His cousin who lives in Midwest-America has said their rain gets rid of the humidity, but Londoners aren’t that lucky. When he’s asked to consult on a case in Folkestone he’s pleased to get out of the stifling London heat. 

Mycroft loves summer. He has never admitted it out loud to anyone, though Anthea figured it out once she had booked his second summer holiday in Folkestone. She was her discreet self and never mentioned it. She just booked the holidays and informed him when it was done.

*****

Greg was following a constable in town when he saw a man walking out of the local shop carrying a couple of canvas bags. He thought he looked familiar but he couldn't quite figure out who it was. The man was wearing short pants and a polo shirt with boat shoes that match the color of the shorts. His auburn hair was loose and curly with a curl on the forehead. He looked happy and relaxed. Greg took a closer look and stopped short, suddenly not listening to the constable anymore. 

“Mycroft,” Greg called out in surprise.

Mycroft stopped short and looked over at Greg with a bit of trepidation. He’d never let anyone see him without his typical armor on. Especially the man who could make him forget his name with the right look. 

“Detective Inspector,” Mycroft replied warily. 

“What are you doing out here,” Gregory asked.

Mycroft couldn’t very well say that he was working with an outfit like this, could he?

“Holiday,” he said quietly. “What are you doing here?”

“Working,” he said as he pointed at the constable.

“I better let you get to it then, Lestrade,” Mycroft said.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Greg,” he said as he smiled at Mycroft.

“Gregory,” he nodded goodbye. 

Greg continued working with the constable and had to push back the interest in Mycroft’s holiday.

*****

That evening found Greg in the local nursing a pint thinking over the case. When the door opened and the bell sounded he doesn’t pay it any mind until a voice next to him asked the barman for his usual. That voice, with its silky quality, had always done things to him and Greg had to try hard to not visibly shudder.

Greg looked over at Mycroft. He hadn’t changed his clothes, wouldn’t need to in this beautiful weather, but Mycroft looked more confident than he did earlier. 

“Gregory, I hope you’re enjoying this fine town,” Mycroft said as he took the stool next to Greg.

“Mmm. I feel as if I’d be enjoying it more without this puzzling case.” 

“Would you like to discuss it?”

Greg took a big breath and turned toward his companion and smiled. 

“No. I would rather not. Maybe a break would do me good.”

“Sometimes I find breaks are better for thinking than the previous hours put toward the problem.”

Greg hummed in agreement and took a drink.

“So. Summer holidays, huh?”

“As I stated, breaks are good. I found this town years ago when one became quite necessary and I haven’t stopped coming since.” 

“I haven’t taken a holiday in ages,” Greg said looking off in the distance, “probably should with all the time saved up.” 

“I could make some recommendations if you’d like, I know of a fine coastal town South-East of the city,” Mycroft replied with sparkling eyes.

Greg put his pint down on the bar, “tell me about it.”

Greg and Mycroft closed down the pub that night and the next morning when Greg showed up, not from the inn rather a cottage on the coast, for more consultations with the local force he felt happier and more relaxed than he had in a long time.


End file.
